Title and she runs on self-sacrifice
Rating NC-17 - adult - slightly dirty
Word count 1,500ish
Characters Dean/OFC
Timeline AU - Spoilers for season 2
Summary A vague outline of a downward spiral - giving up one's life to facilitate someone else's.
Authors Notes So I guess this came from the song Siuil a Run - it's about a girl who gives up everything when her lover goes off to war. This song breaks my heart. I really feel this jumps in some places…but so does my train of thought…sorry.
WARNING smutty angst, uncomfortable memories of family during sex, and a reference to the Secret of NIMH
She sells her car when Dean mentions he needs a new rifle and they just don't have the money. She doesn't think twice when she pulls it into the dealership and a greasy little man with hair that looks like a miniature black saddle hands her a check for thirteen hundred dollars.
She'd rather have him using a fully functional firearm than risk him being hurt, so she's glad she can alleviate the finances. She's happy when she walks through the parking lot of the Fairmont Motel and hands him the cash. Her rubbers soles light on the pavement and still a bounce in her step.
When he hesitates she just kisses him, soothing him with herself because Sam isn't there, their alone and words stopped working a long time ago.
-
She misses her little brother's high school graduation because Dean is in a hospital in Tacoma. There's a accident and he ends up with a gunshot wound to the leg, a concussion and a broken arm.
She sits beside him in the sterile cage, reads to him from Gulliver's Travels, eats all his jello and plays Shoots & Ladders with Sam when he's sleeping. She stays after visiting hours are long gone, watching TV and listening to the sickeningly steady beep of the heart-rate monitors.
The sound pings at her brain again and again beep…beep…beep - he doesn't notice the noise. He just sleeps and fusses if he wakes up and she's not there.
Even though he's hurt he never lets up and she pretends she doesn't hear him when he makes uncouth comments about her wearing a nurses uniform and how he'd like to check her temperature.
When she gets home her cat is the only thing waiting for her. The answering machine doesn't blink red back at her and her brother doesn't call her the next week to tell her he's decided on New York University. Her sister tells her over coffee - she bites her lips and plays with her hem and feels like shit.
-
It's the final semester - her dream of a Master of English Literature degree is so close she can taste it…and she drops out.
She puts her books away in box she scrounged up at the grocery store, she hides her favorite collection of poems at the very bottom. It was too hard to look at them when they were sitting on her book shelf. They stare back to her and remind her of what she's giving up.
She gives him her tuition, a little over six thousand dollars in the form a series of money orders. He never asks where she got all that money, he doesn't want to know.
When he hesitates she ends up naked in his bed, stoking his back as he naps on her chest.
Words aren't enough anymore.
-
She misses her niece's baptism when Sam runs off in the middle of the night.
Dean calls her and actually asks her to come to him.
A precious little girl named Lilly is being confirmed before God as, five hundred miles away, she pulls Dean, passed out, from the bathroom floor to his bed. And as her sister, Helen, is making the decision to stop speaking to an irresponsible, careless her - she's laying beside a man who smells of vomit and Jack Daniels.
In the morning when he regains consciousness and cleans himself up, he fucks her against the headboard. He's almost there, biting her lips all teeth, shoving into her wet and hard and messy when she starts to cry.
There isn't anymore to say, so instead he makes love to her - soft and slow and genuine. When she comes she's mentally only half there and she feels dirty, incestuous, deceitful - he's got his dick inside her and all she can think about is family - lovely little girls being baptized - white dresses and purity and God and how babies always smell of nearly sour milk…
Dean pretends not to notice she's somewhere else and she hopes he never knows the truth.
-
When rent comes due there is no money.
Dean and Sam help her move what's left of her furniture to the curb. Sam won't talk to her instead passing guilty glances in her direction.
Dean tells her she can only pack one bag because they don't have a lot of room, she leaves behind a lifetime's worth of memories. It honestly doesn't bother her until their waiting for Dean outside a gas station in Raleigh and Sam slings an arm over her shoulder and whispers I'm so sorry in her ear.
She's broken and sulks around for two days until Dean convinces her to let him eat her out in the backseat of the Impala. He whispers dirty, unclean things in her ear until she agrees.
She hates doing it in the car, the vinyl sticks to her skin, she feels sluttish and cheap. She hates that the only other alternative is asking Sam to go out for night. For a moment she wishes Sam wasn't there and he'd never tagged along with his brother, no…fuck, she loves Sam, she feels guilt-ridden for resenting him.
It happens again, this time his face is pressed between her legs, his mouth sucking - scraping teeth at her clit and chin pushed against twitching pussy - she comes and howls Dean but she's thinking about Sam and guilt and gratitude…
-
After six months of nomadic trekking, she goes home to visit her parents. They have been in a tight spot, holed up and hiding for weeks and she hasn't called in – she can't remember.
Her mother and father bestow disapproving looks and her sister does not show up at all.
Her mother steals glances at her ring finger – she used to wear her great grandmothers ruby. She sold it in Washington to pay a doctor who agreed to dig a bullet out of Sam's shoulder without asking questions.
Her mother begs her not to leave and her father tells her not to come back if she does.
When she walks out the front door it's the last time she ever sets foot in her childhood home – when she climbs into the backseat of the car neither of the boys say a word. Dean doesn't turn on the TV that night and Sam is suddenly nowhere to be found.
It's the dirtiest she's ever felt in her life. She doesn't stop babbling in pants, a steady stream of lustful profanity to help her forget everything before. She begs and whines and when he has her legs bent, hooked over his shoulders she still pleading for it harder, fuck me baby, harder, make it hurt Dean, fuck me 'till it hurts…
He does fuck her until it hurts and mistakes winces of pain for a reaction to anything physical. But it's what she needs that night, what she needs get off and to feel something other than what she fails to feel the rest of the time. A constant ache in her heart that doesn't kill her because he occasionally releases the pressure.
She's not sure when or if she reaches her peak, but she feels when he does, pushing into her so hard she's squeaks - spilling into her hot and sticky - while she's thinking
Her mother always smelled like cashews and laundry detergent and read to her for hours while she turned into a prune in the bathtub, The Secret of Nimh - Mrs Frisby & Nicodemus - over and over… She and her mother used to sit a shallow, plastic children's swimming pool in the front yard on hot summer days and drink ice tea and let praying mantises talk up and down her arm.
Her father rocked her to sleep in the wooden rocking chair until she was eight and couldn't fit his lap anymore. He would sway in that creaking chair and sing with a voice that only a daughter loved because it was her fathers. He sang songs that parents don't sing to children anymore; Sixteen Tons - Saint Peter don't you call me cause I can't go I owe my soul to the company store…
-
When Dean's father dies she understands for the first time something she's known since she met him.
She isn't the only one who gave up life. He's just as broken as she is.
He never had the chance to miss the all things she left behind, but that doesn't mean he ever wanted them. It's why he never knows what to say, how to be insightful into her pain - he has too much of his own.
In the end she's giving and he's taking and then offering back what's left over. He tries his best to be what she needs and she puts up a really fucking convincing act - pretending she doesn't want anything else.
They lay on a ugly, stale, floral comforter and he breaths into hair, his body wrapped around her like she's what's keeping him from slipping away.
They don't fuck.
She's never felt closer to him.
Instead it's just hands rubbing skin, fingers stroking up his forearm, rough hands sliding under her shirt and resting on stomach.
She's been in love for a long time, but this…this is something altogether more elusive. The absence of which had been gnawing at her heart. As she falls asleep all she can think of is him - and it's a long time in coming and it feels almost like - unconditional - and it is- enough.